


Wrapped Around My Finger

by TheAuthorFormerlyKnownAsFantasia



Category: Original Work
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dominance, Dubious Consent, F/M, Femdom, Forced Crossdressing, Forced Feminization, Forced Marriage, Light BDSM, Manipulative Relationship, Misandrist Society, Misandry, Orgasm Control, Praise Kink, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 03:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19309282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAuthorFormerlyKnownAsFantasia/pseuds/TheAuthorFormerlyKnownAsFantasia
Summary: In a Female dominated and Misandrist society, young men become househusbands and enter into arranged marriages with women. Hildé Grant, an esteemed businesswoman with an anger management problem, pressures the owner of a failing local Deli into giving over her one of ten sons in exchange for financial immunity and political power.





	Wrapped Around My Finger

**Author's Note:**

> This is just for practice to improve my writing, so it won't be perfect, it will be edited MANY times, and it will have many writers marks and notes everywhere. It also has no connection to my previous work either.  
> Comments always welcome.
> 
> Edited 4/4/2020: Changed Names.

Never has a woman wanted to throw away her family name and buy a new one more than Ma. Born Janice May D'Agostino, but known around town as Ma D'Agostino, she was a surly and weathered woman approaching elderly age in quick fashion. Her hair curled tightly to her scalp in rings just tiny enough to wrap snug around her own pinky finger. The greying roots a testament to the passage of time and the end of her youth. Silver pushing against a burnt auburn like a tide pushes against sand; slowly making it's way to prominence.

In the past, the lines framing her mouth deepened the more she smiled. The sides of her lips, thinning and chapped, seemed to point like arrows to each dimple and wrinkle. The stretch unbearable to look at on her worst days, where the happiness spilled from her crinkled eyes and dripped down below her brow in the form of crows feet. At times, when she was happy enough, her whole face appeared like bunched fabric, grabbed too many times by small sticky hands, or like a ruched and pleated dress, each line designed so meticulously to overlap.

Now, the folds of skin have been ironed out like an old business suit put to work again. The creases pressed and steamed by a cold face made of stone and indifference. Smooth like marble, and just as unshakeable. The smile that graced a once pretty face made way to a brooding frown and drawn exhausted eyes. Happy was a look she modeled less often these days.

Her feet, chaffed and hardened with callouses, small to match the rest of her stature, were clobbered into a tight pair of low heels. The pain of the shoes pinching her Achilles was deftly ignored, like the hard clicks against the concrete as she approached her Deli on Mose Street, right outside the square of Miller Park. Her romper was deep green - like the color of the leafy shrubbery inviting attention to the window displays - and loosely fitted, but pressed to perfection.

The jingle of the bell above the glass door sounded her arrival into the warm and musty space. The air was thin and there wasn't a single soul occupying the foyer, except her. The shelves were stacked with boxes of ready rice and bags of chips, both off-brand and brand name. Fridges at the back of the store humming low, chilling the milk, and a small selection of soda-pops and liquors. Racks of gum and cigarettes framed the beaten up cashier machine. It was a traditional Mom and Pop store, greying with age, like Ma herself.

In truth, Ma D'Agostino hated her Deli with a burning passion. If asked about it, she would, of course, save face, like the tacit woman she is, and lie through her teeth as if paid to. "Oh it was a wonderful gift from my aunt, and I'm so grateful to have a business of my own!" or "I sure miss aunt Patty. The Deli reminds me so much of her, there isn't anything I wouldn't do to keep it" were her go-to lines.

It's clear to many passing customers why the store troubled her so much. The mint green textile covering the floor made her gag and the cheap dry walls were colored beige to hide the faded pastel purple underneath. There was bubbled plaster closing small holes and gaps where the mice might run through. The stains, like still frames of fireworks, sprawled across the ugly popcorn ceiling, each blotch seeming to get bigger and bigger each day, really tied the look together. The cheap and antiquated equipment was the cherry on top of the rundown deli sundae.

Regular customers of D'Agostino Family Deli ignore the horrid design, hot atmosphere, and tight smile of the miserable owner in favor of the subs with sides and fresh cuts hailed by near everybody in the park area. The tasty goodness of a BBQ sandwich or a BLT special was enough to take a patron's mind off the wear and tear. In their minds, why complain to the very people putting good food in your belly?

It also didn't hurt that Ma and her husband had a bunch of walking eye-candy for sons. Of the ten total, Two worked the counter, two worked cutting meats, and five cooked. The eldest one, Etrich, helped Ma and Pa stock shelves and manage the store.

Etrich was a tall and slight boy. His head scraped the doorway and his neck bent uncomfortably just to get into their tiny storage room. His eyes were deep moss green, and they sparkled when fresh with tears, as they more and more often were. Etrich was very sensitive and an unwitting heart breaker, according to the gossip girls of the square. He'd been on more dates than he could count, desperate to find the perfect woman his mother couldn't refuse, but he's yet to reach his goal.

Every time he thinks he's found the one, someone who makes his blush raise to the tips of his pointy ears, his heart beat faster, the bumps on his skin rise, he takes her to Ma. And every time Ma catches one sight of the girl - sniffs one whiff of the cherry or bubblegum perfume so many broads like - she immediately denies any and all marriage proposals and/or pleas. He's one hopeless romantic, denied love at every turn, like many other boys in their part of town.

 

The second eldest and third eldest, both working the machinery, are brazen things. Maethio and Matthias are twins with the same coiffed black hair, gap-toothed and wily grins, and impeccable flirting skills. Rarely are either of them far from the other. Practically attached at the hip, they both share everything. Even things it might seem indecent to share. From the same toothbrush to the same shower, to the same exact date. Granted, no woman has complained about the company of both, though that might have something to do with their set of skills concerning women.

 

Richie, who worked the counter beside his apathetic brother Felix, was the smallest son, smaller than even his mother, and had a more complicated relationship with the general populace of women. None of the popular ones wanted his short stature or braced teeth and freckled face. Nor did he want any of the goat-headed blondes that surrounded his area. Of the few curvy and outgoing brunettes who did like him, he was never interested in returning the sentiment.

 

He was socially awkward and untalented in the art of small talk, leading to the assumption that Felix's indifferent nature rubbed off on him. Truthfully, Richie wasn't sure he was attracted to anyone or desired a relationship of any kind outside of his family. Ma didn't seem to mind, glad that at least one of her five eldest practiced modesty, especially since that meant no two dime dame would be stealing away the attention of her "precious" and "hardworking" Richie.

 

All of the five youngest sons toiled away in the kitchen, creating mouthwatering meals and desserts. They were a pretty tight-knit group of siblings, cut from the same cloth with many of the same desires. They were the crutch of the family's home life. Not a day went by where any one member of the family went without a warm meal, a drawn bath, clean and pressed clothes, a cleaned room, and a car ride to wherever their hearts content if they so wish.

 

The most overlooked, by the eldest's, Ma, and most customers, were Sandor and Edison. They weren't the prettiest of the family. No, that was Milo and the twins. Nor were they bleeding romantics like Etrich, nor modest hard workers like Richie. But they shared the brainpower of Felix, without the vaguely narcissistic undertones or associated cruelty. And they both were talented seamstresses.

 

Edison, in particular, was also a talented artist who drew portraits in the park after church when the Deli was closed on Sunday. He had an admirer, Svetlana, a Russian exchange student at the nearby medical school, who came to the park every Sunday and always paid double the asking price for her portrait. Sometimes she'd talk, teaching him new words or telling him jokes and stories, and sometimes she'd just sit and stare in amazement, easily listening whenever Edison had something to say.

Svetlana visited the store twice before, but since Edison works in the back, thankfully has never run into him there. She was by all intents and purposes a complete secret from Ma, in fear that Ma would happily give away her young son to a would-be doctor well before he was ready to become a house husband.

 

Sandor, on the other hand, was a calm and observant boy. He wasn't easy to frighten or anger and was likely the bravest of them all. He was also the plainest, in hindsight. But, that's okay. He never did worry much about his own problems or shortcomings, instead opting to be the shoulder to cry on for all his brothers. Although, despite all brothers being welcomed, it was mostly Etrich and the youngest, Milo, who would take him up on the offer.

 

Milo was a skittish and shy little birdy. The small pinpoint freckles dotted under his big emerald green eyes, surrounded by rich brown and luscious curls, reminiscent of his mother's youth, drew all the older women who visited the shop. There was always a Madame willing to bribe and haggle for his hand to give to their daughters. Apparently, his temperament was perfect, and his looks homely and inviting. Some women were so desperate they'd come back with their daughters in tow, hoping to convince his mother by performing a crude show and tell.

 

Once, a woman from the city council brought her daughter, a marine biologist, to show to Ma. The girl was portly, short, and snobbish. Too abrasive for Milo's taste, but rather well suited to Felix, whom she admitted attraction to before the end of her visit. For Milo's ears only, of course. That day was truly one to remember, as the eighth son gripped the poor council lady by her coattails, practically begging for the  _widow's_  hand in marriage, totally disregarding the young biologist standing beside, affronted that she was less desirable than her aging mother. The council lady was stunned into never returning, as was her daughter (thankfully).

 

Every now and then, Felix would bring up the worst of his brother's adventures in love, and just the worst moments of their lives in general. He seemed to have a stockpile of material, between the twin's naughty shenanigans, Etrich's bleeding heart, and Maclanes shameless fetish for older women. There was even a special reserve of undisclosed embarrassments he used for blackmail. And he had an even special-er vault for relationship shattering family secrets, such as Etrich's attempted "wedding _"_  to their second cousin a few years back, or the fact that Maethio didn't actually share his first lover with Matthias, and has never come clean about it to his beloved twin.

 

But those were big smoking guns he rarely pulled out these days. Not that he even could under the watchful eye of Sandor, who knew many of the same things he did. Instead, Felix set his sights on sibling torture of the emotional variety. In that way, he and Sandor are complete opposites. Every time Felix breaks someone down, Sandor is there to pick them back up. He is his antithesis and his foil. And his roadblock. It was easier for him to bully Maclane(though it was never fun for Felix given the boys' complete lack of shame), but whenever he started a particularly mean cycle on sons nine and ten, Sandor was there as a shield, deflecting every insult and snide remark.

 

Nine, or Danny as his mother named him, would occasionally have a burst of bravery and join Sandor in his battle of wits against Felix. However, he couldn't always keep up with the back and forth and resigned himself to the background more often than not. Eventually, he enjoyed the background. It allowed him to avoid the gazes of other people and to go about his business hanging out with Milo and preparing food, which was his favorite thing to do. People rendered Danny clueless - or maybe he was always clueless, _either way_ \- whenever he was working and had to go to the front for whatever reason, the attention from women, and sometimes men, made him self-conscious.

 

Danny happened to be a people-pleaser by nature, though that didn't always mean he knew how to please people. Everybody wanted something different out of him - Etrich wanted him to fawn over models in magazines with him, Maclane wanted someone to scheme with, Milo wanted cuddles and bedtime stories he was way too old for by now, Ma and Pa(mostly Ma), wanted a confident son who would help take-over the business when they were gone. Maybe Danny didn't mind half of those things, but what he really wanted was to cook.

 

Mistakenly, his desire to cook bled into his desire to please, thinking that was enough to please everyone. The smell of pie appeared whenever someone was sad, Pa's family recipe spaghetti was set on the table whenever their parents were stressed, and bowls of home-made ice-cream were readily available during bored hot summers. No-one complained, yet he could tell when it wasn't the comfort they were looking for. Try as he might, it was just hard for Danny to understand. Meals are how he expresses himself. If he wants to show appreciation, he makes pasta, if he's angry he cooks spicy food, and if he's sorry or wants to cheer someone up, he bakes.

 

Customers take a liking to his food, which makes him happy of course, but many patrons aren't even aware he exists and the ones who are make Danny feel uneasy. People simply love the Deli, and the few sons they can see, enough to visit for as long as their lunch breaks allow.

 

In the small and unsightly yet cherished Deli, the family runs business as smoothly as it's willing to go in their neighborhood. They grew up there - their whole family from generations ago, as well as extended family, did too. Hell, the locals knew the parents better than their sons did. Even though the store is relatively recent compared to other ancient business in the area, the square just wouldn't look right without the tacky sign with the D'Agostino name drawn on it. Ma could care less about the visual impact her family name had on the appearance of the square, but she did care about their source of income and the family reputation itself - which is why her current bankruptcy has her aging years earlier from stress.

 

The combined expenses of raising ten sons, stocking and repairing a store, and keeping their house and cars paid for, has taken a toll on Ma's wallet. To add insult to injury, her sister would ask for loans, her twins would spend money on vanity, and her husband wasn't much for frugality at the grocer. Carson was the one who managed to convince Ma that she should steer clear of her aunts' failing methods and actually serve 100% fresh ingredients for every item on the menu, including the rarely ordered ones. Sometimes she wishes she never listened to his opinions, but those beady brown eyes were a remaining weakness of hers even after all these years of marriage.

 

Keeping their heads above water was difficult, and quickly becoming impossible. Ma hid their shame as best as she could behind tight smiles and fashionable coats, but the cracks in the facade were getting larger. The family began walking to their Deli more often to save on gas, they relied more on Sandor and Edison's sewing skills rather than buying new clothes, even when they sorely needed them, and sold more of their furniture than could be considered comfortable. Yard sales were reaching bi-weekly and pretty soon they would be running out of things to offer save the clothes on their backs. They worked from sun up to sun down now, with few breaks in-between or exceptions.

 

It's true that in a set of fortunate circumstances, Ma would have sold the Deli. The only reasons she hasn't is because she's too old for employment in the jobs she's qualified for, none of them would pay enough to live off of, and it would bring a measured amount of scorn from the rest of her family who adored aunt Patty and saw the Deli as an extension of her.

 

Her sons, of the ones she was willing to marry off, were incapable of finding themselves good and wealthy wives. And if the unlikely happened and they did find someone perfect, she was sure they would inevitably ruin the union, plunging the family back into debt. She knew Etrich had many prospects lined up, but none wealthy by her standards and his gushing romantic antics would surely make him an earnest cheater after marriage. The twins were promiscuous as could be, totally incapable of holding down marriage or house, plus it would be hard to find a woman willing to take two of those for husbands. Richie was queer, surely, and besides; He was her favorite boy - how could she give him away?

 

Now, some sons she was readier to exchange, like Felix, who she was beginning to believe saw himself as better than his family. She couldn't wait to hand him over, but she wanted his wife to be the sternest and dominating woman she could find. Strict and controlling, to the point of balancing even his weight if she had to since he was gaining a bit more than he should. Maybe that would make up for her perceived failures in raising him. No doubt, she loved him all the same, but he could be unbearable sometimes and she only wanted someone who would love him enough to see to properly shaping him in ways she couldn't.

 

The younger boys were options, but they controlled both the kitchen and house affairs - giving all or even most of them to someone else would burden the family more than help in their current predicament. To make matters worse, her husband was soft as could be when it came to them. Milo was an easy fetch to sell, but her dear sweetheart would beg till he wept to keep his youngest with him. Maclane practically threw himself at available women, but both Ma and Carson wanted grandkids, and the women Maclane found marriageable were hardly capable of supplying that tall order.

 

So far, only Sandor, Edison, and Danny were ready, but even they had their hang-ups. Sandor was too boring, Edison appeared to be reserving himself for someone else, and Danny was clueless enough that he wouldn't have the slightest idea how to please a wife.

For a while, it would seem that Ma was shit out of luck; Until the day she wasn't. That day which happened to be today.

 

But Ma wouldn't know that 'til later. For now, she breathed in the air of the dying store, primly smoothing her hands down the close fit of her shirt. Taking that second to order her thoughts, She strode into the back worker's room of the store, hoping at least some of her sons were present to start the day early.

 

* * *

 

The small plastic round table shook as the elbows of the boys seated around it threw the uneven legs off balance. The table was present back when aunt patty ran the store and has been beaten into the ground ever since. It was a stained mess, yellowed by coffee and with crumbs pebbled on the surface. As Maethio leaned inward, so too did the table.

 

"You know what I think?" he asks his twin, not expecting a verbal reply, "I think we should pay dear Annie Harbours' new husband a visit. The chud can't be that interesting."

 

From Ma's position outside the wedged door, she could see one half of Maclanes unimpressed expression. His lips were curled down in indifference. He was starting to look more and more like Ma every day.

 

"Leave him alone, Maethio. You both spoiled your chances. If Anne wants a normal husband, a chud as you say, then she should have one," He huffs a small laugh, all knowing-like. "Besides, she deserves better than you two."

 

Up until that point, the twins had just been rolling their eyes at Maclane's common sense. Now both were on the defensive; Matthias tensing up, hand gripping his mug, and Maethio was half out of his chair, ready for a verbal spar- or a physical one.

 

"Better?!" He all but yelled, fire behind his eyes, "You don't have tastes. You wouldn't know what better looked like if it-"

 

"enough, Maethio." Ma said half-heartedly, already tired before the day truly began. She walked easily into the small space, pouring a cup of coffee black, with one sugar, like always. The routine took over and she leaned into its embrace. The only thing comforting about the day so far was her morning coffee, and even that had almost been screwed up by her sons.

 

Maclane is next to Ma, back against the counter, both hands cradling his own cup of coffee, prepared just like hers. He's attempting to be stern, and by the looks of it, he thinks he's got it down. He speaks without looking at her.

 

"You weren't at the house when I woke up." He states, "Where did you go so early?"

 

"To the bank."

 

"For three hours?"

 

"For one hour per bank," She grimaced, stirring the cup in her hand slowly. "With an extra twenty minutes to spare at a stuffy office talking to an equally stuffy pinstripe suit disguised as a woman."

 

She pulled the cup to her lips, smelling the liquid before taking one cautious sip and humming after the swallow. Maclane always liked to know where his mother was at all times. He was nosy in a way even his father wasn't. Or maybe he was just more astute than the other boys; it was hard to tell.

He's clingy; A Mommas boy. Ma doesn't like that though. Many mothers got all teary-eyed seeing their sons and daughters grow up and scram, and it's not exactly as if Ma would be totally unaffected, but she'd much rather the bird leave the nest than never learn how to fly.

 

"Where else did you go?"

 

"Maclane, it's a little early in the morning for an interrogation, don't ya think?" Ma D'Agostino lets out a tired sigh.

She eyes her sons, trying to keep her face neutral instead of morphing into instantaneous annoyance.

 

"And what did you three do; besides argue."

 

"We bought fresh ham from the butcher and more milk and cream for the fridge." Matthias piped up, overly eager to pretend he was an active and useful member of the family business.

 

"We also restocked the candy shelf," said Maethio, equally eager of course.

 

Both the twins were met with one non-committal hum. Ma was never convinced they did anything unless she saw with her own two eyes, but she let it go, sure that if the twins didn't complete their tasks then one of her other children will.

 

"And you, Maclane?"

 

"I helped Danny make breakfast.

made that pot of coffee too."

 

Ma's face remained stone, her brow quirking only slightly. She shifted on to her left foot, blowing the steam away from her cup. This was about as much family interaction they were going to get before the store opened. Ma liked to clip things short in the Deli. Family matters and family discussions were to be had in the family house. The Deli, while being a family business, is a cursed plot of land, with a roof and four walls she wouldn't trust with her most innocent of secrets lest she jinxes herself.

She turns fully to address Maclane, the only one currently present she trusts to actually carry out his small task.

 

"Send your father to my office when he gets here."

 

And with that she spun on her heel, and practically marched out of the break room, the cold of her demeanor leaving a trail of ice behind her, with only the hot drink in her hand giving off any warmth from her person. The door to her office thudded softly and click as it closed.

 

 

 

Maclane looked back at his twin brothers, bored with them. They were bickering about something or another - likely one of their numerous flings - but he didn't care enough to listen in. He was mulling over Ma's sour than usual disposition. It wasn't like he hadn't seen her upset before; he'd spied on her breaking down to tears in her study more times than he'd care to share. However, this upset felt different. A quiet resolution wrapped up in bubble wrap. Sensitive to the touch, but guarded behind shields of steel. He wanted to reach out and grab it, take apart the layers and find what was troubling her.

 

Comforting his mother was his sole purpose. She was his rock through all his life, in ways he couldn't even explain; and he wanted to return the favor. Ma's walls were placed so high though; he had doubts he could climb them sometimes. The fear of letting his mother down dwarfed many others, sending electric shocks of revulsion through his veins - as if his body physically agreed with his mind. It was inconceivable, the very idea that he could leave his mother wrapped in her own feelings and worries without being privy himself to what they were; whether she wanted him to know or not.

 

The twins behind him have resorted to flipping each other off as Maclane busies himself wiping up around the coffee pot, keeping it neat and tidy - the way Ma likes. Later he would prepare the baking station for Danny and reset the register for Felix as per his morning routine. Milo would trail behind, probably, and Sandor would come in to help. Part of Maclane silently took stock of all his morning tasks, the other half concerning itself with Ma and her secrecy.

 

Ultimately, he wouldn't get the chance to dwell on it too hard as the bell to the entrance jingled lightly. Ritchie had arrived before he usually did; early for once. His young eyes were dull with sleep behind the circles that framed them ungracefully. And so the day began: Maclane to his usual rituals, Ritchie standing stock still at the register until the store closes, the twins buggering around at the cold cut station, Felix watching like a hawk while gorging on the chips he was supposed to shelve. While Sandor and Edison minded themselves cleaning in the kitchen, Danny and Milo slaved away at the stoves and ovens, and Maclane desperately tried to make himself useful to Ma. Etrich didn't come to the store that day, but Maclane thought nothing of it.

 

Soon the sun had firmly set high in the sky, cascading the abrasive mesh of the flooring and wallpapers and transforming them into warmer hues with a trick of the light. It fell threw the windows and door, heating up large spots as if it was glaring through a magnifying glass. By then, a sparse few customers had come and gone.

Syma, a tall and spindly gym teacher and store regular, had ordered her usual grilled Rueben and sugar cookies, winking - rather attempting to - at Felix while he rung her up. Of course, Felix pretended he hadn't noticed, having sized up Syma the first time they met and already decided she wasn't good enough for him. Erik, the blond and timid postal clerk from across the park, arrived the same time he always did and had his espresso in less than two minutes - the boys memorized his order, muttered softly under his breath, and had made it on autopilot before he even entered the store. Come late mid-day, they were all so bored with the same old monotony and would rather have stayed home than open the shop.

 

* * *

 


End file.
